


The Fifth Day

by hiddenheadspace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Castiel, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, How do tags even work, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 04:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenheadspace/pseuds/hiddenheadspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel forgets until he sees the date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fifth Day

**Author's Note:**

> If my style of writing shifts at the very end that's because most of this was written in a car and the ending was written at 11:45 at night. Oops.

It’s been a few days since Castiel came to the bunker, and it’s nice in a kind of unexplainable way to have him around, sharing the space with him and Sam. Right now, Cas is frowning thoughtfully at Sam’s laptop while Dean dicks around aimlessly in the kitchen, not really trying to get anything done, just wanting to keep an eye on Cas, who has been strangely quiet.

It turns out lucky that Dean was around, because after a few minutes of silence that begin to seem too quiet, he turns around to check on Cas and finds him sitting at the computer, shaking with noiseless tears.  

“Cas!” He’s at Cas’s side in a flash. “What’s wrong?”

Cas has to struggle for a moment to form words. “Friday,” he says at last.

Friday. Today is Friday, yes. Dean is nonplussed.

“Uh…what about it?” he asks coaxingly.

Cas takes a few shuddering breaths and relaxes his death grip on the table. “I didn’t notice when it was Thursday,” he says.

An awkward moment passes before Dean recalls that Cas is—no, was—the angel of Thursday. “Oh,” he says, trying to keep his voice gentle. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’ll be sure to remind you next week.”

“I used to always be able to tell,” Cas says distantly, tiredly. “I never forgot a single one. And now, what, two, three Thursdays have passed and I never even thought—” He seems to shake off that train of thought in favor of increasingly worse ones. “And what if I’m forced to leave the bunker? What then? I’ll continue to forget and Thursdays will mean nothing to mean—they mean _nothing_ , Dean, I have no claim—” And then he’s crying again.

“Cas.” Castiel ignores him. “Cas. Look at me.” Their eyes meet. Once Dean’s sure that Cas isn’t about to jump out of his chair and flee the room, he reaches out and slowly wraps a hand around Cas’s wrist. “If you leave, I will call you every Thursday and remind you. That day will always be your day, whether or not we ever manage to track down Metatron. Thursday will _always_ be your day. Just because you aren’t an angel anymore doesn’t make all that you were as an angel irrelevant.” He leans forward, hoping Cas is hearing him. “If you still want that day, then it’s yours.”

Cas is very silent, and Dean thinks his attempts at helping Cas have been dismissed again. Then Cas speaks.

“Thank you, Dean.” The words themselves mean little; they might as well be a way for Cas to get rid of him. But Castiel’s eyes have softened a little and he touches Dean’s wrist very gently in return before pulling away. 


End file.
